


let's let things come out of the woodwork

by orphan_account



Series: tumblr prompts [11]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M/M, Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Grant’s smile is wider than the fuckin’ moon.





	let's let things come out of the woodwork

**Author's Note:**

> i asked Ash to send me another golden trio prompt and she said: "Is that my shirt?" for the Golden Trio (from [this prompt list](https://mjolll.tumblr.com/post/162317975633/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come))
> 
> sorry for any typos
> 
> tile from [homemade dynamite by lorde](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EHqhNqQUOA)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Chuck.”

“Yeah,” Grant says without looking away from the window. Like he’s never seen Austria before—like they haven’t been there for four days already.

“Is that my shirt?”

“What?” Grant glances at Joe, then down at himself. A breath of laughter escapes him. “Yeah, yeah, I guess it is.”

“Have you seen my tie?” Babe asks as he steps between them, looking to both of them before his eyes land on Chuck. His eyes narrow accusingly. Joe knows the feeling.

Grant’s smile is wider than the fuckin’ _moon_.

“Chuck, I swear to God—”

“Jesus _Christ_ —”

Joe and Babe move on Grant on the same moment laughter bursts from him: it’s surprised and full of light, something Joe vaguely recalls from their early days at Toccoa when everyone laughed like that, and he has to swallow down the lump in his throat that suddenly appears at the memory as he and Babe successfully wrangle Grant and end up falling onto the bed, tangled together.

Joe really, really wants to kiss both of them. In that second, his lips buzz faintly with the thought of it—he clamps down on the impulse to lean forward and _do it_. His body’s on autopilot when his mind breaks the connection between body and impulse: his mouth is pulled in a smile as Babe hooks an arm around Grant’s shoulder, his smile white like before-blood-stained snow in Bastogne. But his mind and his heart are spiraling down, down, down, into the mess of bedsheets as Grant keeps up the fight. At this point, neither of them are going to get either article of clothing back.

But then it doesn’t matter that Joe tried to swallow the want—because Babe is pulling him down, and Grant is pulling _both_ of them down; there are arms around him and beside him; and then Grant says, “ask me nicely next time,” in a flat tone, to which all three of them promptly burst into laughter at.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
